


Frozen Emotions

by Tharapita



Series: Ice Burns [2]
Category: Devil May Cry
Genre: But I love him!, Crying, Depression, Emotion suppression, Emotional, Emotional Hurt, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Emotionally Repressed, Friendship, Gen, Guilt, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Morrison does not get enough love from the fans, Suicidal Thoughts, Suicide, Survivor Guilt, no beta we die like men
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-12
Updated: 2020-09-10
Packaged: 2021-03-06 04:40:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,199
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25867567
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tharapita/pseuds/Tharapita
Summary: After the events of Mallet Island, Dante is tries to freeze his emotions to escape his pain. This time, Morrison is the one who has to give him antifreeze.
Relationships: Dante and Morrison are Friends
Series: Ice Burns [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1877038
Comments: 4
Kudos: 27





	1. An Internal Glacier

**Author's Note:**

  * For [KittyChan](https://archiveofourown.org/users/KittyChan/gifts).



If Morrison was honest, he was putting off visiting Dante. He had just come back from something big, something the human had only found out about when he found the bill for the boat trip on his credit card, something Morrison instinctively knew had messed Dante up as badly as Temen-ni-Gru. He was never going to forget the month after that incident. A month of Dante drinking himself into the ground or smashing up everything in the shop culminating, of course, in that conversation. The vulnerability. It was something Morrison was never going to forget as long as he lived. That and the following 2 days of creeping around his own flat with Dante on his sofa with a commercial sack of ice on his head. Or several, actually. 

So that was why he was putting off for as long as possible pulling his car up to the double doors of Devil May Cry, because he couldn’t face a repeat of that. But after 3 days of solely replaying the events of that conversation crammed into his car 9 years ago over and over in his head, he couldn’t stay away. If that was happening again, he’d never forgive himself. But he had hope this time around at least. Dante had grown over what was now nearly a decade. Sure, he still drank, still drank to forget, but he also had a deeper stability that had meant he no longer drove himself to such idiotic lengths. He had grown up. Well, at least most of the time he had. When Dante stopped acting like an impulsive idiot Hell freezes over, Morrison thought wryly. 

Opening the shop door, Morrison felt instant relief that he wasn’t greeted with a forest of spirit bottles. There was a nice collection of beer bottles and cans in one corner, but Dante could drink that much and not even feel a buzz. Even better, the desk was also covered in empty pizza boxes which for Dante was healthy. Morrison already felt himself relaxing. The man himself was sprawled length ways across his sofa, the picture of normality. His coat was discarded in a slump on the floor, and Dante was wearing his usual red trousers, waistcoat and elbow-length shirt and, while he didn’t have a magazine over his face, he did have one arm over his eyes. Morrison desperately wanted to take this as a sign Dante was fine, but there was something off, and he was not abandoning his friend. Not again. Never again. 

The arm shifted slightly as Morrison’s feet made the floorboards creak, and he felt himself the scrutiny of a single clear blue eye, before the arm returned Dante to darkness.  
“Job for me?” His voice said, the rest of him still unmoving. That set Morrison right back on edge, all of his calm vaporising. That wasn’t like Dante, by now he should be sitting up, walking around. Morrison knew the devil hunter had two settings, asleep and hyperactive, but right now the half-devil wasn’t either of those. He was just lying there awake. Dumbfounded for a moment, Morrison tracked his other hand. It was clasped around a gin bottle, with two empty friends lying beside it. And an empty vodka bottle. Ah. So things were not right at all.

“Since when did you like vodka?” Morrison asked, walking up and leaning on the wall beside the sofa. There wasn’t anywhere to sit in the shop when Dante lay across the sofa. A low chuckle escape the man, his arm still slung across his eyes.  
“I knew I couldn’t sneak it past you.” He laughed, with no humour in his tone. Morrison joined the empty laugh.  
“I’ve known you too long.” He said with a hollow smile.  
“It’s an excuse, really.” Dante said, still not moving from his position at all. “If I tell myself I’m drunk I don’t have to get up.”  
“3 and a half bottles is no way near enough to get you even tipsy.” Morrison said matter-of-factly, all humour gone from him in an instant. He had never seen Dante like this, so wilfully lethargic, and he wasn’t quite sure what to do. But that hadn’t stopped him before. “What’s going on?”  
“I’m fine.” Dante said, now even his tone was still, descending into a monotone. “Just wanted to have a lazy day.”  
“When you do that you sleep.” Morrison said, not giving up. If this idiot thought he was going to be fobbed off with that kind of excuse he had another thing coming.  
"I suppose you're right." Dante sighed, still not moving.

Morrison waited for the rest, but that seemed to be it and a few moments of unexpected silence appeared in the shop. Unfortunately, the human could see no other course but to keep pushing.  
"Is this about Mallet Island?" He asked. He tried to keep his tone light, but both of them knew this was a very serious question. A downside of knowing someone for close on 15 years was you knew this was anything but a light conversation. Dante moved, finally, his arm leaving his eyes and going to rest beside the rest of him, leaving his two crystal eyes staring blankly straight up into the ceiling. Morrison could only wonder if they had been open boring holes into his arm before hand. However, accompanying this movement was also a growl like something Morrison had never heard before. Deep and low and anything but human, it unsettled him seriously to hear it coming from Dante. It took him several moments to realise that the sound had, in fact, been the word 'no'. Morrison sighed and gave Dante another empty smile, even though his eyes were still fixed on the ceiling. You would've thought a growl like that meant some kind of emotion but Dante still looked devoid of anything. 

"I think it is, Dante." Morrison said, still trying desperately to lighten the mood, although really both knew that this conversation had left those realms the moment it began. "Talk to me, please." The half-devil didn't talk. He leapt from the sofa in one fluid action letting out what could only be described as a roar more ferocious and violent than any demon Morrison had heard. In the same movement his arm, still holding the half empty gin bottle, flew around the man in red, flinging the bottle away from him where is shattered on the wall, dousing Agni and Rudra in gin and glass shards where they hung on the wall. Morrison was thankful the pair only gave each other looks rather than starting to talk. Again. 

Dante stood firmly where he had leapt, a good ways from the sofa, in a battle stance, breath ragged and coming in gasps, head bowed and fists curled. Worryingly, red sparks were flaking off across Dante and flying around him like dust in the breeze, a tell-tale sign that he was about to trigger. Morrison, though he was loathe to admit it, shifted a little away from the wall where he was leaning towards on the of copious weapons that decorated the shop, his heart rate picking up in moments. Dante was unpredictable at the best of times and this was like nothing Morrison had ever seen in him. He wasn’t afraid of Dante but - but - well it didn’t hurt to be wary. Thankfully, this line of thought was quickly abandoned, as abruptly as Dante had moved he stopped and collapsed inwards, all signs of anything but emptiness leaving him in an instant. In a split second, the half-devil was slumped on the floor in a gelatinous lump, his eyes again staring emptily at the ceiling. 

Morrison hesitated, momentarily, before going towards the Dante pile quickly. He put out his hand to him, offering once again the empty smile,  
“Need a hand?” He joked humourlessly. The Dante he knew would jump at any opportunity to make a joke and act the fool, but this lifeless man just looked at him, still not moving from his place on the floor. They stayed like that for more than a long moment, Morrison offering help and Dante just looking into his eyes with emotionless ones. 

Tension built within Morrison, worry over his friend, his actions and what the hell had happened on Mallet Island to cause this. Finally finally Dante moved his hand across to Morrison’s grabbing it firmly and pulling himself up. He didn’t look at him again, the minute he was up he stared at the floor before making his way and collapsing on the sofa. At least he was a little closer to sitting, head lying back against the wall, eyes again on the ceiling, arms lying as if they were forgotten on either side of him. Morrison let him go before he went and sat beside him, looking across at him with nothing but worry etched upon his face.  
“What’s wrong, Dante?” He asked, finished with trying to buoy him up. He needed more than that, he needed a solid friend not a funny one and Morrison could do that for him. “What happened?” 

Nothing happened again. In what was becoming horribly like a pattern for Morrison, Dante didn’t say anything silence pervading again the shop. Morrison, leaning forward, looking across at Dante with nothing but worry, the man himself like a deflated balloon, gazing into nothing. The emptiness built, oppressing further and further onto everything like a thick summer heat. Morrison was getting more and more uncomfortable, worrying doing its work and eating away at him like acid. 

He couldn’t take it anymore, he prepared to say something when Dante shattered the silence before him.  
“Please, just go.” He whispered, barely a breath of air passing his lips, the rest of him still unmoving. Morrison again hesitated, this was so removed from what he was used to with Dante, before shaking his head, just once.  
“Not until you tell me what’s wrong and I help you Dante.” He said, slowly but firmly, in an unrelenting brick wall of a tone. Dante turned suddenly, quicker than a human and nothing but a blur to Morrison’s eyes. Fury filled his face, his eyes glowing with a deep red malice.  
“Just GET OUT!” He yelled, facing Morrison down with all of rage. “I was finally feeling NOTHING before you came and now all these FUCKING EMOTIONS are back and-“ He cut himself off, those burning eyes closing quickly. One breathe came and went from Dante, an emotion indescribable carved in his eyebrows, a mix of pain, anger and denial. “This is what I’m talking about. Please Morrison I am dealing with this myself just fine. Leave me alone.” His eyes didn’t open while he said this, and he slumped back again into the sofa when he was done, a parody of sleep. 

“Bottling emotions isn’t dealing with it.” Morrison said slowly. Carefully. Dante was clearly in a lot of pain and something more. He was never this erratic and unpredictable and the human was terrified of doing him harm rather than helping. The half-devil shifted uncomfortably beside him, eyes still closed. It was never easy to face painful emotions but ignoring them, especially in this lethargy, was only going to make it worse.  
“If it works I’m taking it.” Dante said quietly, his voice strained as he pushed emotion from it. “Please just leave me alone.”  
“It doesn’t work, Dante. You’re just ignoring the problem, which is going to make it get bigger. You know better than that.” The devil hunter sighed, once, before leaning forward, resting his elbows on his knees and his forehead on his clasped hands. It looked like a sign of surrender, and already Morrison felt that this was hurting Dante, but it had to be done.  
"Mallet Island has hit me like a train." Dante muttered quietly, his voice only just making its way from his hunched position.


	2. An External Flood

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Morrison gets Dante to be honest, and from frozen emotions comes a flood of pain and confessions.

Morrison was in shock. That, that was quite the tale. As loathe as he was to admit it he was desperately curious, mostly about this Trish, but he was also well aware that Dante was too much of a mess to start asking him about it. Baby steps, he’d find out eventually.  
“Trish is out right now.” The half-devil said, he hadn’t moved throughout his telling, although Morrison was certain he could see two clear teardrops caught in his eyelashes, which had emerged when he had talked about his last battle with Nelo Angelo. Not that he’d dwelt long on it at all, or even the entire story. 

“Dante I’m sorry.” He said quietly, not accepting his changing of the subject. That was just another avoidance tactic. Morrison placed his hand firmly onto the red-clad shoulder in reassurance, and although Dante flinched and shifted under his grip he left it there.   
“It’s not your fault Morrison,” the devil hunter said quietly, “you shouldn’t have to apologise.”   
“I’m sorry you have to go through this at all.” He replied quietly. “You don’t deserve this.” Dante wrenched himself from his hand at that, leaping from the sofa again in a fluid, predatory motion. It still unsettled Morrison, seeing this other most definitely not human side of Dante, but he would be dead before he ever let Dante know of this. 

“YES I DO.” The half-devil yelled, head bowed standing, his presence forcing itself into the whole shop. “He was MY BROTHER, MY TWIN. I should’ve known. I should’ve recognised. I should’ve stopped before it was too late and my sword was STICKING OUT OF HIS CHEST.” Dante turned to glare at Morrison, all of his anger leaking out of him, a vicious snarl torn across his face, his eyes had been totally consumed by a furious red and two fangs curved over his lips.“I should’ve recognised my own twin before KILLED HIM WITH MY OWN HANDS.” There was nothing but fury in his expression and although Dante had again taken a fighting stance against Morrison, the human knew all of it was faced against himself. The guilt was tearing him apart. 

Morrison started up towards the broken man, but he turned away from him, anger still seeping from him and leant face-first against the wall on the other side of the shop. His voice emerged slightly muffled from the wall but it was just as angry and laced with hurt.   
“He was in so much pain, Morrison. The entire time we fought he had this look in his eyes. He knew. He knew who I was and a little who he was and he was in turmoil through all of it. How could he recognise me and I didn’t; when he was under that bastard’s spell! I was so relentless I thought he was just another demon I caused so much pain to him and he was aware through all of it. Even when I killed him! All of that was my fault. So yes, all of this is my fault. I deserve this pain and so much more but I’m still such a fucking coward that I won’t even face up to it myself.” Dante didn’t move after that, resolutely staring into the wall, although the air around him was thick with glowing red trigger flakes, warning Morrison he was as furious as ever, and moments away from triggering. 

“Dante.” Morrison started carefully. He had thought he was out of his depth before with the Sparda family but this was infinitely worse. It probably would be easier to get the man a therapist at this point but Dante would never accept that. He was going to have to suffice or this man would stay like this indefinitely. “I know you feel it’s your fault but you aren’t to blame as much as the person who put you both into that situation in the first place. You were doing the right thing, and ultimately you saved the world. You can’t and you shouldn’t feel guilty for that.”  
“The road to hell is paved with good intentions, Morrison. And the end doesn’t justify the means. You can’t wrangle this one around. I was wrong, what I did was wrong and I deserve to be punished for it. It would be easier if I was dead, it’s that simple.” 

“If you were dead, Trish wouldn’t be alive. The world would be under the rule of Mundus. Demons would be crawling all over. Nothing would be better if you were dead. I’d mourn you. Trish would mourn you. Your death would pass the pain on.”   
“But I know I’m all unbalanced Morrison.” Dante turned to face Morrison slowly, his face was streaked with tears and there was a deep self-loathing in his eyes that Morrison had never seen anything like before. “I nearly triggered earlier, for no good reason. My emotions are all out of place and I keep acting on instinct and at some point it’s going to get out of hand. I’m so angry at myself it’s all wrong and I can’t control it and it’s going to end up hurting someone like you. That’s why all I can do is not feel anything or die. Death is the better option, that way I punish myself too.” The half-devil’s face screwed up in rage. “I’m just too much of a coward to go through with it.”

“Dante, I understand why you’re thinking like this, but it’s not the answer. It’s not entirely your fault and if you don’t accept that now I hope you will. You will never deserve punishment for doing what you thought was best. Regardless I know what you’re doing to yourself is more than enough. And no matter what happens I will never let you go too far, alright? I understand if you don’t trust yourself, but trust me. I’ll live here if you really want me to, but I know you and I won’t let you loose yourself. Talk to me, and you’ll help yourself come to balance.” Morrison had been slowly advancing on Dante while he had been speaking, and now engulfed the man in a hug. Dante was like iron beneath his touch, but slowly melted into the embrace.   
“You won’t be able to stop me, Morrison. I don’t want to force that upon you.” 

“I won’t let you get that far. I care for you, Dante. Don’t ever forget it. You’ve been through hell and you’ve gained the scars to prove it, but I’m here to help you heal them as best I can. Just accept my help for now. Please.”   
“Ok. Thank you.”

Things slowly got back on their feet after that. So slowly. It took a long time for Dante to leave his guilt behind, and longer to heal, but he did. Morrison lived with Dante and Trish for a while, and Trish was fascinated to learn that nothing but pizza and alcohol was not ‘a normal human diet’. She and Morison moved out together, although Morrison stayed around. No matter what he tried though, he still couldn’t displace Dante self-loathing, and the depression he hid behind his eyes. Until a certain Patty Lowel walked in and turned out to be everything Dante was missing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for reading! I’m sorry this took a while to upload, especially to you KittyChan, but I got my grades and my offer to university. I hope you enjoyed this and it was all you hoped/expected, but if you have any suggestions please do let me know!
> 
> If you are feeling suicidal, please reach out and talk to people, it’s never the answer.

**Author's Note:**

> This was written especially for KittyChan who is awesome! If your name is KittyChan please keep reading, if it isn't please read the paragraph below. KittyChan! Thank you SO MUCH for your support and comment on the previous fic! This right now is all because of you, you marvel!! I know I said I'd take a little bit of time but you so inspired and excited me I couldn't wait. That's also why this is in two chapters, I haven't written the rest I just wanted to see you smile (figuratively)! I hope this is what you wanted and see you for the second half!!
> 
> Hello there! Thank you so much for choosing to read my fanfic. It fills me with hope to think of all of us united in our love for this fandom and there characters. Please tell me if you liked my writing, or if you hated it, I want everyone to enjoy what they read. Also, if it's a super comment it might get a fic of its own haha!
> 
> Also, if you spot any typos/spellings PLEASE tell me I'm dyslexic and I find them hard to spot, really embarrassing to think of how they probably pepper my work. Sorry.


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